


Fractures

by MadameReveuse



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, M/M, Psychological Trauma, War is hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:45:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameReveuse/pseuds/MadameReveuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eugene always thought having a daemon of the same sex as him made him weird and an outsider - but when he meets Snafu he realizes he hasn't seen nothing yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fractures

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to bring puppy Deacon into the fray, so I just made him Eugene's daemon. And he makes a delightful companion I think (:  
> I took the name "Calixta" from Kate Chopin's story "At the Cadian Ball" which takes place in Louisiana so...kinda fitting. The "all places are alike to me" thing is a reference to this one story by Rudyard Kipling about the cat.  
> At least a little familiarity with daemon AUs is kinda required, but if you can't bring that to the table but are still starved for Sledgefu (I get shit) I will provide to you a link to the fanlore page explaining daemon AUs  
> http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daemon_AU  
> This wasn't even meant to have a sex scene, it just kinda happened :/

When Eugene enters the tent and scans the men inside while Bill Leyden asks if they’re in the right place here, Deacon’s vision settles on their daemons. True to the tired old stereotype, dog daemons – like Deacon – are common with soldiers, but these three are of the exceptions. The man called Burgin has a sleek fennec fox in his lap. A sparrow is perched on Jay de L’Eau’s shoulder. The other guy, introduced as Snafu, has a mangy…um, creature curled up by his feet, a feline of some sort. When Burgin says “Find yourself a bunk” and Sledge moves to drop his pack onto the nearest one, Snafu picks up his daemon and tosses it, and it lands gracefully on its feet and looks up at Sledge, tail twitching. And Snafu gives him a half-smile and says, calmly: “Taken.”

Of course Eugene can’t remove the other man’s daemon. It’s the greatest taboo of all, touching them. He glances at Deacon, who shakes his head. They’re replacements here, haven’t earned their place yet. Time to retreat.

* * *

 

The next time they meet Snafu, Eugene is scrubbing out oil drums. While Snafu is seated above them, king of the world for the looks of it, mouthing off and not moving a hand to assist them, Deacon tries to sniff at his daemon, earning him a threatening hiss. Eugene feels in that moment that Deacon is afraid of this strange cat – a lynx, he thinks, but it’s hard to know. The creature is all ribs and wild fur and frayed ears and rage.

He says: “Can you please keep your daemon in check? It’s startled Deacon.” He prepares for the mocking, the inevitable comment on having a daemon of the same sex as him. They say it says…things about a person.

But Snafu merely replies: “She’ll do whatever she wants to do.” However, he makes a half-hearted attempt in calling his daemon back, “C’mon here, boo” and she grudgingly backs off a little.

* * *

 

“She smelled strange” Deacon will tell Eugene later. “I wasn’t scared of her teeth. There was just something about her that was…strange.”

“Strange like what?”

“I don’t know. Like nothing I’ve ever smelled, or seen before.”

* * *

 

“You like this guy” Snafu’s daemon will tell him.

“I don’t _like_ boots” Snafu will reply. “But you sure made an impression on that mutt he had.”

“Not a mutt” she’ll say. “Probably a purebred…something or other. Rich boy’s gotta have a purebred.”

“Nah, that’s a mutt if ever I saw one” Snafu will say. “We don’t pick daemons. Otherwise I wouldn’t have ended up with _you_.”

“You’re so full of it” she’ll say and jump into his lap, at which he’ll secretly be pleased. She’s not very affectionate, as daemons go. Used to be different, once. But neither of them likes to think about how things were once.

* * *

 

On the airfield on Peleliu it’s Eugene who decides to go back. Deacon doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to save Snafu and his strange cat. But Eugene is running off, tugging at the bond between them, and they could never be apart, never. So, with a frustrated yip he follows, catches up with Eugene, uses his nose to pick out that slightly unsettling scent from amidst all the smoke and fire and blood and confusion.

Next thing he knows he’s holding onto a mouthful of mangy fur at the scruff of her neck and nudging the strange cat up on her legs and she thanks him by snarling and batting his claws at him. He manages to dodge, but only barely. Next to them, Eugene does the same, grabs a fistful of Snafu’s shirt and hauls him along. After a few wobbly steps, a switch in Snafu’s brain seems to flick, and on they go.

Later, Snafu will offer Eugene a nickname (“Thanks, Sledgehammer”) along with his friendship. His daemon’s not one for great gestures, and she’ll merely fall into step next to Deacon and bat her tail against his flank, indicating “Well, I guess we’ll have to live with each other now.”

* * *

 

Snafu’s daemon has her own military slang nickname. They call her Fubar, F. U. B. A. R, _fucked up beyond all recognition_ , and never say why. Because while Snafu is addressed by nickname only to the point that Eugene has heard his real name used a whopping two times, they only ever whisper his daemon’s name behind their backs. And even though Eugene is developing some sort of rapport with Snafu, Deacon continues to be wary of Fubar. It’s an inexplicable feeling he can’t shake, and it solidifies when one day they find Snafu just hanging around with her nowhere in sight, and Eugene has already started asking “Where is…?” when she comes creeping out of the underbrush, and there’s blood on her snout.

“Where was…?”

Snafu shrugs. “Sometimes she hunts things” he says and cards dirty hands through her dirty fur, none too gently. “Did you listen to the skipper?” he hisses at her. “There could be Japs around here. You could have gotten us both killed, you little shit!”

“As if you care about me” she replies aloofly, and it’s the first time Eugene or Deacon hear her voice. “Or anything apart from your miserable self, Merriell.”

“Fuck off” Snafu says, raising his hand as if to slap her, and she bares her teeth. But they wouldn’t…

Then they see Eugene’s and Deacon’s wide eyes on them, and stop whatever they’ve been doing. She strides off into the distance and after some tense moments, Snafu gets up and follows her.

“How can anyone treat their daemon like that?” Eugene asks as soon as they’re out of earshot.

“Don’t know” Deacon says. “It’s almost like…”

“Like what?”

“Nothing.” Deacon flicks his ears back, his tail between his hind legs. Like he’s scared.

“What? You don’t usually keep things quiet from me.”

“Because I know you like him. Snafu. But…it’s as if they were two entirely separate beings. I mean, did you hear how he spoke to Fubar? Called her a little shit. You don’t speak like that to someone who’s a part of you.”

“Her teeth were bloody.”

“Daemons don’t have to eat.”

“Let’s not worry about it, okay? We’ve other stuff to think about. Like not being shot or exploded.” They both agree that’s a bit higher on the priorities list than whatever Snafu’s or his daemon’s deal might be.

That is, until the day they step into an empty clearing and there’s some sort of mangy cat there and Eugene trains his rifle at it because why the hell not? And the cat turns around and says: “Hey, this ain’t target practice, sweetie. Point your rifle somewhere fucking else.”

“What—you’re his, you’re…Fubar, I, I meant, um…”

“The name is Calixta” Snafu’s daemon says haughtily.

“Where’s Snaf?” Eugene asks.

“I don’t know and I don’t care” she says simply. “Probably back at camp, asleep. He was when I left him.”

“But how can you…how do you…?”

“If he hasn’t told you, I sure as hell won’t” Calixta says and strides past them.

Then they’re alone.

Or as alone as they can ever be. They’re always in each other’s company. Not like Calixta. Not like Snafu.

“How can…?”

“I don’t know” Deacon whispers. “I just don’t know.”

* * *

 

It’s Burgie who they pry the story out of, or at least enough parts of the story to make sense of it all.

“Why do they call her Fubar?” Eugene asks.

Burgie clicks his tongue. He doesn’t look surprised. Like everyone asks, sooner or later, and he’s deciding whether he should answer, or tell Eugene to fuck off.

“Because she is” he says at last. “Fucked up _beyond all_ recognition.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s because she was a mockingbird when we first met them” Burgie says, still in this decidedly clipped tone.

“I don’t…what?” Eugene is still no closer to understanding. Snafu is older than him. It’s pretty impossible that his daemon settled so late in life. But Burgie makes it sound like…

“It happened on Gloucester” Burgie’s daemon suddenly speaks up.

“Remula…” Burgie says, chastising. A daemon talking to anyone but their assigned human…it doesn’t normally happen. Only in case of emergency. There’s something oddly intimate about hearing another’s daemon speak. Remula has a nice, melodic voice, and her bond with Burgie runs deep, Sledge can see. They merely exchange a long, pointed look, then Burgie goes on talking.

“Yes” he says. “It happened on Gloucester. I was there, I saw it. Me and Snaf and a few others got into an ambush, and the Japs…you know these swords they have?”

Eugene nods. He knows these swords they have.

“Well, some of them apparently coat one side of the blade in some metallic alloy which can…well…”

“Which severs” Remula whispers.

“The bond between…”

“Yes. In the fighting, the confusion, Snaf and his daemon, they got in the way of such a blade. And…”

“Goodness” Eugene mutters. Deacon nudges him, wants to jump into his lap. Eugene would hesitate to let him, doesn’t want to look weak in front of Burgie, but then he sees Remula do the same and allows it. He’s glad that Deacon is there.

“Well” Burgie takes up again. “So much for the mockingbird. I saw her fall when they were hit, and as she fell she…changed. When she hit the ground, she was this mangy beast she is now. Almost everyone else that witnessed the whole thing got killed, either right there or in some other scuffle later. And Snaf…well. I’d seen it happen before, and usually…if they survive it, they’re off to the madhouse, usually. It’s…he never told me what it felt like but I could see it was…horribly, horribly painful. Both physically and mentally. Since then, every night I pray that it doesn’t happen to me, to us.” He reached out for Remula, who pushed her snout into his hand, affirming. Yes, I’m still here, we’re still together.

“So, we got a corpsman, although no one had much hope for anything at that point. She – Calixta – had run off in a panic and we – just the two of us – went looking. Those were the most dreadful two hours I ever lived through on these islands, until we found her. Remula carried her and we brought her back to Snaf, although we weren’t sure it would help any. She was…she didn’t move, she was in a stupor from—from losing—but, well, as soon as she saw Snaf she started to fight. Pretty sure Remula’s got scars still from those claws and teeth of hers. Somehow they made it through. Never were the same again, went a bit mad probably, but they made it through.”

* * *

 

That night, in the foxhole, Eugene wants to wrap himself around Deacon and press his precious little body tightly to his chest, because this story haunts him like nothing else could. _Severed_ is a word that’s whispered, in ghost stories, or rather not brought up at all. But now it’s real, it’s close-to-home, it happened to someone Eugene considers his friend. Could happen to him tomorrow. But Deacon has other plans. He wriggles out of Eugene’s embrace and curls up next to Fubar – no, her name is Calixta – draping his tail over her flank, giving her lonely form some company, some warmth. She gives a hiss – surprised, warning – but Deacon doesn’t let it deter him. Snafu drops into the foxhole no two seconds later, sliding into a sitting position next to Eugene in what little space they have.

He asks: “What are them two doin’?”

Eugene shrugs.

“Talked to Burgie, have ya.”

“Just for confirmation” Eugene says.

Snafu _hmmm_ s.

“What’s it like?” Eugene asks. “Being…?”

Calixta bats her tail, once, twice, another warning.

Snafu shrugs. “We’re doin’ pretty well, I reckon.”

“No, you’re doing _exceptionally_ well. Never heard of anyone who went through this and hasn’t been reduced to a blithering, drooling wreck.”

“We have fight” Calixta says curtly. Deacon licks the fur over her shoulder and she makes a show of grudgingly settling next to him. The tiny smile on Snafu’s face betrays them.

* * *

 

In the days and weeks that follow, Eugene tries to adapt. Adapt to the view of Snafu or his daemon turning up somewhere alone, which still turns heads, but mostly people have learned to ignore it. One of the new boots, Hamm (with two m and his little ferret daemon wrapped around his neck), makes the mistake of _asking_ Snafu after it. Snafu makes sure to snark at him whenever he sees him, Fubar scares the hell out of the little ferret, they’re both trying very hard not to show they’re heartbroken when Hamm is killed. Eugene closes his eyes and sees the golden cloud of Hamm’s daemon going up for days.

Some things are harder to adapt to than Fubar going walkabout every other day. Like marines dropping like flies. Like the Japs and their kamikazes.

* * *

 

It’s usual for Snafu to sleep fitfully in the foxhole. With tracers and shells whizzing overhead and the perpetual danger of Japanese infiltrators, no one ever sleeps tight on the lines. Tonight is different, though. Tonight Eugene is thinking he should probably wake Snafu, because his tossing and whimpering will call the enemy to their position. Eugene wonders what he’s dreaming about as he watches Snafu’s hand patting uselessly by his side, searching for something that isn’t there.

“Calixta” he mutters, still fast asleep. Eugene looks around. Snafu’s daemon is nowhere to be seen. She is a strange, wild soul and she will go far away from Snafu whenever she pleases. Right now, Eugene would rather she was here. He’d rather she was always here, because she could run into danger out there all alone, and besides, Snafu without his daemon is still just…eerie. Eugene tries hard not to let the mere sight have his flesh crawl, because Snafu is the best friend he has in this hell. Right now, he’s not spooked. He feels nothing but pity. He can’t imagine how it must feel, this wound Snafu carries around in his very soul.

“Calixta” Snafu repeats. “No, _no, where_ …?”

That’s when Deacon slips out of Eugene’s arms and pads towards Snafu.

“What are you doing?!”

Eugene knows what his daemon is doing. He can feel Deacon’s grief for Snafu and his yearning to give that poor, fractured soul some modicum of comfort. Eugene knows that in this moment, Deacon wants to press close against Snafu, wants to fit himself into the gaping hole in Snafu’s heart, because no one can imagine how lonely, how bitterly lonely his fate must be… Eugene understands. But still.

“You can’t do that” he hisses.

Deacon doesn’t even look at him. But he hesitates.

“What are y’all two doin’?”

Eugene turns around. Fubar has appeared outside the foxhole. She gracefully jumps inside and curls up next to Snafu, who promptly stills. “See” she says. “I can handle.”

“Where have you been?” Eugene asks her. It still feels weird, speaking to someone’s daemon. Especially when that daemon is like Fubar.

She bats her tail and gives him a derisive feline glance. “I’m a cat” she says. “All places are alike to me.”

“The places outside this hole where you could run into Japs and get killed seem a little worse in comparison to here” Eugene argues. She ducks her head under Snafu’s arm and doesn’t reply.

* * *

 

They all thought it was bad when the Japs sent their civilians out into the fray with dynamite strapped to their chests. It could be considered worse when they resort to daemon warfare: when some huge hyena Jap daemon barrels through the line holding a c4 in its mouth, and everything erupts into chaos, Eugene grabs at the gaggle of his squad's daemons blindly, presses an armful of fur to his chest. An electric feeling pulses through him as he ducks out of the way of the explosion, and he chalks it up to adrenaline, until the dust settles and he looks down and the press of limbs against his chest is awfully unfamiliar. And then he sees Snafu staring at him where he’s standing over Deacon, shielding him but not touching a hair on his body. It’s Eugene who’s got another person’s daemon in his hands, it’s Eugene who has just broken the greatest taboo known to mankind, it’s Eugene who’s _touching_ —

“Let me down, Sledge” Fubar says very quietly.

He lowers her to the ground as quickly as he can without dropping her, and she runs over to Snafu and leaps into his arms where he hugs her tightly, the greatest display of affection Eugene has ever witnessed between the two.

Later, he and Snafu will agree to simply never talk of this.

* * *

 

“I could think of worse people to get their hands on me” Calixta will remark to Snafu, later.

“He can do it again for all I care” Snafu will whisper to her, defiantly, his jaw set.

* * *

 

Then they’re on a train home and Eugene can’t help but admire his present company. Both Snaf and Fubar have cleaned up incredibly well. He’s in his dress greens, with a sloppy loose tie that makes him look laid-back even in uniform, his hair tidy and accurately parted at the side, while her fur is groomed to the point of shining. When it’s not caked in dirt, it has a beautiful pattern of spots, and a color that fluctuates whenever she moves: one moment it’s a rusty brown, then it looks rather like a blueish silver. They’re both so _clean_. Eugene realizes he has never seen either of them not covered in blood, grime or sweat at any given time. As long as they refrain from opening their mouths, you could almost think the war never happened to them.

But they’re still subtly…off, and people notice, subconsciously. No girl will touch Snaf, no matter how much he dials up the charm. At some point he stops trying to be charming. Whatever approach he chooses, it earns him either a cold shoulder or a slap in the face.

* * *

 

“Merriell.”

He’s usually not called that anymore, except of course by her, because what else should she call him? So he turns around and acknowledges her, the way her back is arched and her ears are flicked back, the way she digs her claws into the seat opposite from where Eugene is sleeping peacefully, his daemon curled up next to him.

“Merriell, this is stupid. What are you doing. Wake the boy up.”

“We gotta go” Snafu says. “Come on.”

He’s not sure where it is he’s going – there’s a family whose letters he hasn’t been answering since Gloucester, but he’s not sure they’ll take him, take them, back, not like this. He left them with a bird perched on his shoulder. This stubborn feline would be hard to explain. So his family is out, but Eugene’s out too. Eugene’s got a place to be, and whatever they were to each other, Eugene doesn’t want to be dragging a broken remnant – two broken remnants – of the war around with him. But he’d insist, if woken up, on trying it. It would be easy, far too easy, for Snafu to worm his way into his life. But he’s at his innermost core repulsed by the thought of it.

He doesn’t know where it is he’s going, but there’s no time to lose.

Calixta bares her teeth. “We. Need. Them” she insists.

He’s turning, walking towards the door. “We’ll learn not to.”

“This is stupid!” she repeats. “This’ll hurt us. And them.”

“Staying here would hurt ‘em more.”

“Stop it! I’m not going.”

“I can leave you here. I can.” He really can and isn’t that the worst of all. They can be apart now and if she’s gonna be like that…

He’s almost out the door when he feels the leap coming, feels two pairs of claws dig into his back, making pin-prick holes in his nice new dress greens. She scrambles up until she’s hooked around his chest, and they’re muffling their sobs against each other, cloth and fur.

“Never, never again, never” she breathes hotly, “Never that again, never…”

“No, no” he agrees. “We’re in this together, we’re…”

“Together” she echoes.

* * *

 

Deacon whines when he wakes up a few hours later and the trademark scent of Fubar is just not there. His whining alerts Eugene, who reminds his daemon that they were to reach New Orleans sometime that night. But to just disappear like that, without a goodbye?

They spend a lot of time thinking about the why. Of course the circumstances are different here than in the middle of a war. The both of them will have a lot of covering up to do. They will stay close to each other, they will live their lives pretending nothing’s wrong with them. It will be hard for them, so hard. If people, civilians, ever found out they’ve been severed and have adapted, to the point where it hasn’t affected their combat efficiency or their day-to-day coping skills…Eugene can imagine several scenarios playing out now, and none of them is pretty. From the asylum to government taking an interest…gruesome things could happen to Snafu and Fubar, or rather, he supposes, Merriell and Calixta now. But he doesn’t _understand_ why Snafu would flee from _him_ first. Maybe he said something, or did something that made Snafu wish to disappear from Eugene’s life entirely without a trace. Maybe something happened, maybe… he doesn’t know.

Once he’s back in Mobile, his time is spent squaring things out with himself. It’s all avoiding his mother’s gradually more aggressive attempts to persuade him to get a job and look for a girl or maybe the other way around. It’s sighing inwardly at his brother who keeps prancing about in his uniform to the point where he wants to ask him if he hasn’t anything else to wear. _Hey Edward, when will your other clothes return from the war?_ It’s facing his father’s quiet worry when he wakes up nearly every night bathed in sweat or worse, screaming, when he breaks down crying at a dove hunt. It’s trying not to miss his strange companions too much. It’s trying to find back to a normal that somehow evaporated along the way.

* * *

 

In an unexpected way it’s Sid who one day shows him what he wants. They’re sitting on the porch of Sid’s wonderful new house, with sweet tea that Mary just brought out. Were they not who they were, it could be so idyllic.

“Marriage has changed you already” Eugene remarks in an offhand way. “In a good way, though.”

“Yeah?” Sid asks. “You mean Mary has me whipped? That’s true. I’m doing absolutely anything she asks.” He’s grinning. “You’d do the same, if you were married to an actual goddess.”

“I mean…I don’t know.” Eugene shrugs and tries to offer his insight. “You’re calmer. More matured. Settled, somehow. But not in the boring way. Like you’ve got it all figured out, now.”

“That’s because of her” Sid says fondly. “It’s because I know I found someone. And it’s gonna be okay now.”

“You know that?” Eugene can’t help but ask. He’s not trying to doubt Sid or his marriage. It’s just… he wishes he had anything figured out, himself. But he doesn’t think marrying some girl is the answer for him.

Sid scratches his daemon, a hare called Moira, behind the ears. “Yes. I know it. A hundred percent sure.”

“How?”

Sid looks like he’s weighing something up in his head. Like he’s contemplating if he should tell Eugene the secret behind his nice, domestic life.

“There’s this…thing” he says at last. “This thing you do. When you love someone a lot.”

Eugene rolls his eyes. “We’re both aware I’ve never had it, but I know what sex is. I’ve been a marine.”

“Not what I mean” Sid says. “This thing I mean involves your…daemons.”

“What?”

Sid tells him what.

Eugene can’t help but let out a little horrified chuckle. “This is a thing? People do this? I mean…”

“I know, right? Mary wanted to try it. I gotta admit, afterwards I asked my mom if this was a normal thing to do. She said yes. She said all couples figure it out along the way.”

Eugene takes a minute to mull this over. He exchanges a glance with Deacon. It’s strange, but they both feel it. Like the answer to a question they didn’t even know they had was just presented to them. Like there’s a way along which to proceed now. Like they’d been afloat, drifting aimlessly, but now there was a future. And a way to settle certain things.

“This might sound terribly, strangely off topic now” Eugene says to Sid. “But I need to go to the VA as soon as possible.”

“You hate the VA office.”

“Yes. But I need to find this guy’s address in New Orleans.”

Sid raises his eyebrows. “I won’t even ask.”

Eugene gives him a hug. “Sid, you’re solid gold.”

* * *

 

Two days later and they’re both sweating away in the humid Louisianan heat. Deacon is especially excited, but the weather has him drooping a little. Well, at least it’s not as bad as Peleliu.

They find Snafu’s ramshackle apartment fairly quickly. When he opens the door, Eugene almost doesn’t flinch at the fact that he’s alone.

_“Sledgehammer?!”_

“Yes, hello Snafu. Didn’t you forget something?”

“Wha—oh damn” Snafu says, trailing a hand through his hair. “She can’t be in a different _room_?”

“Nu-uh. Keep her closer. A few steps apart is as far as it gets. Can I come inside now?”

Calixta is sitting on the kitchen counter inside, and Snafu cusses her out because apparently she’s not allowed up there and “shedding hair every fucking where ya old bitch.”

They pass the day well enough, exchanging anecdotes about what they’ve gotten up to in the time they were apart. Deacon and Calixta sit together, not speaking, but looking at their companions with a sense of expectancy. Maybe they’re asking themselves if their humans will ever figure it out. And they do when after dinner – and god, Snafu cooks like the angel he isn’t – they both collapse on the ratty old couch and Snafu asks: “So, why’s you here, Gene?”

“I’m…I’m here because…I’ve been thinking, and…I want to try something, if you don’t mind.”

“Wha-?"

Eugene leans over and presses his lips on Snafu’s.

The kiss is meant to be chaste, just a short press of lips on lips, and Snafu sits rigid for a second, but then, as Eugene’s already pulling away, Snafu’s hand is gripping his jaw and his hungry mouth follows Eugene’s. He opens his lips for Eugene, licks and bites and wants in. Eugene lets him. He’s mewling down in his throat, but it gets swallowed up by the gradually slicker, wetter, more intimate kiss. In his periphery Eugene can see their daemons. Oddly, here it’s Deacon who is in control, nuzzling and licking at the fur of Calixta’s face, chest, the top of her head. She’s cowered in a position that his half defensive, ears twitching and flanks trembling, her little pink nose hectically sniffing Deacon out. She looks half-spooked and ready to run. Eugene considers this – that she might have a more distinct own personality than Deacon has, that she might see things radically differently from Snafu, because technically they’re not two parts of a whole anymore. Nor are they fragments – they’re two independent personalities, coexisting. Eugene’s resolve to do the thing he came for wavers a bit and he hesitates, which prompts Snafu to break the kiss.

“This?” he asks. “You came all the way out here to try cocksuckin’ homosexuality with me?”

“I’m not seeing myself sucking your cock right now” Eugene replies, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards in some strange mirth.

“So what _do_ you see yourself doin’?” Snafu asks, smirking.

“Well, there’s this one thing” Eugene says. He beckons Deacon to stop fussing over a now pliant Calixta and come up onto the couch. Deacon complies and Eugene picks him up, has him sit on his lap, then firmly grips Snafu’s hand and brings it up to Deacon’s fur.

“Please” he says.

Snafu’s hand is hovering. His breath is coming in short, hard pants. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide.

“Eugene.” He’s whispering now, as if he doesn’t have the breath for anything louder. “What…?”

“Please do it” Eugene says.

And, with full knowledge of what it means, Snafu lowers his hand and pets Deacon’s beautiful soft fur.

Eugene feels it immediately. It’s electrifying in just the right way and he melts, boneless with bliss against the couch, and he can feel a high color rising up into his cheeks. It is as if Snafu reached out and put his hands on Eugene’s very soul. If he had just pulled his pants down and pushed his groin into Snafu’s face, it would have been less intimate.

With anyone else, it would be too much, the touch searing, unbearable. But with Snafu it’s just right, and Eugene wants him to never stop. Deacon shares the sentiment as he scoots closer into Snafu’s arms, pushes his snout into his hand, licks and wags his tail and is acting, to Eugene’s amusement, more like a real dog than he usually would.

Then Eugene feels a soft touch of something on his knee.

He opens his eyes and sees Calixta, who has boldly put a paw on him, and it’s a whole new kind of feeling. _Of course she would_ , he thinks, _of course she’d have this her way_. But at the same time, he knows that it is right this way.

“Don’t want us to be missin’ out on all the fun, Sledge” she says in her raspy cat voice. Fueled by nervous excitement, Eugene lowers his hands to scratch her little head.

He’s been worried that Snafu might not feel it the way Eugene feels it, what with his separation from his daemon, but all his insecurities blow away on the breeze when Snafu utters a surprised, loud moaning sound.

“Fuck, Eugene” he gasps. “ _Fuck_. That feels so…”

He doesn’t go on. There’s no word to describe how this feels. There’s nothing in the world to compare this feeling to.

They have to take it further, have to actually touch each other now. Their mouths meet again, hot and urgent and their teeth clash a few times, all these sensations making them clumsy. Their hands grope blindly against soft fur which elicits happy noises from their daemons. Eugene can feel himself breaking out into a full-body flush, and he knows Snafu is the same. He knows every little thing about Snafu in that moment.

It’s like the elation is making them all drunk. Eugene strokes his free hand up and down Snafu’s side as Snafu gets to work on unbuttoning his shirt. His mouth latches on the first strip of skin that is exposed, sucking a bright red mark under Eugene’s collarbone. Eugene gasps, he is hard, he is leaking and aching and wanting and his pants aren’t even off yet. He’s going to spill into them and embarrass himself like an insecure thirteen-year-old.

“Snaf” he breathes, all urgency. “Will you…I need…”

“Yeah Sledgehamma, yeah, okay.” And then Snafu’s hands slip under Eugene’s clothing and together they somehow wriggle out of their suddenly way too confining pants.

At this point Eugene isn’t really thinking anymore. He just knows he needs, closeness and friction, so he slots his hips to Snafu’s, angling upwards, their erections rutting against each other. Precome gets spread around, making things greasier.

“Mmm. Oh” Eugene moans, drops his head to Snafu’s shoulder. He loves it, the soft golden skin there, no more sores and scrapes and bruises from the war left. “This is so good” he mutters. “This is so good.”

In the periphery he can see their daemons, utterly wrapped around each other. Calixta is on her back, having exposed her vulnerable belly to Deacon, making weak little mewing noises.

There are so many things he wants to do with Snafu, but as Snafu takes his hand to their cocks and starts jerking them together, Eugene knows this is going to be a quick one. He can feel himself ready to release everything and come, but he holds on just a little longer, steals some more precious seconds, to join his hand with Snafu’s. It’s not like Snafu can’t do this on his own, but Eugene needs to participate. This is more than just a quick handjob. This is about _togetherness_.

A few more moments and he comes, pants and shudders through his orgasm, which seems to spur on Snafu, who lets out one long strangled groan and finishes two heartbeats later.

* * *

 

Afterwards, they just lie together for a while. Snafu grabs one of their discarded shirts to haphazardly wipe them clean. A bath is going to be in order later, Eugene thinks. He’s looking forward to it. Maybe they can all somehow squeeze into the tub together. Maybe he’ll be allowed to wash and groom Calixta’s fur. He hums happily at the mere thought of it.

Snafu shifts a little at the sound, looking Eugene in the face. His whole posture is calm, unwound after the orgasm, but his eyes carry a soft anxiety, a cautious question. Eugene decides he might as well be the one to ask.

“What are we gonna do now, Snaf?”

Snafu shrugs, looking over at their daemons. They’re still huddled close together, and seem to communicate through silent glances. After a moment passes between them, Deacon says: “What if we just stayed like this?”

Eugene exchanges another look with Snafu. He sees his feelings mirrored here: a shy hope, a faint doubt. _Can we manage this? We’re not gonna manage this._

But actually, why on earth not?

Eugene reaches over to stroke his daemon’s head. “And how long, do you think…?”

“Indefinitely” Deacon says. Calixta nods and rubs against Eugene’s other hand as if to make a point.

“Oh” Eugene gasps softly. The second time feels just as overwhelming as the first. Will he ever get used to this? Will it ever be routine to be this close to someone? He doesn’t know whether to hope or fear it.

Deacon, meanwhile, is leaning against Snafu’s back, sniffing at a small bead of sweat in his neck. Snafu gasps just like Eugene did, and Eugene can almost hear his daemon thinking. _Are these two going to be good for us?_

_Yes_ , he thinks back, smiling. _What a question._


End file.
